


Candles and Wishes

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Candles and Wishes<br/>Warnings: Weasleycest, language, infidelity<br/>Summary: Charlie won't tell what he wishes for over his birthday candles, and hence his wish comes true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candles and Wishes

**Wishes and Candles**  
  
“Fuck me, that's a lot of candles,” Charlie said, staring wide-eyed at all thirty-eight of the flaming wax sticks stuck into his home-made birthday cake.  
“Reminding you how old you are?” Bill smirked, his face glowing in the light from the candles.  
“Thirty-eight and still as ugly as the day he was born,” George sighed sympathetically.  
  
“George!”   
  
Their mother's hiss was loud and Charlie flipped him a cheeky finger.  
  
“How very dare you?” George put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes.  
  
Charlie laughed and shook his head, looking down at the cake. “So can I blow yet?”  
“How many men have you asked to do that to before?” George was snickering.  
“Come on,” Percy said austerely over the top of Charlie's retort. “Blow the candles out, make your wish and have done with it.”  
“Homophobe,” George muttered beneath his breath.  
“Inconsiderate.” Percy sniffed.  
  
Charlie decided to silence the both of them by sucking in an almighty gust of air into his lungs and forcing it out over the candles. They immediately died and the delicious smell of their smoke curled into his nostrils. Charlie closed his eyes and wished.  
  
“Wotcher wish for?” George asked immediately.  
“Won't come true if I tell.” Charlie tapped his nose secretly. “But if you're still here in ten minutes then I guess that wishes don't come true.”  
“Charlie!”  
  
It was his turn for a rebuke from their mother and he immediately apologised to her. Even years on, she was still sensitive about the loss of Fred, and rightly so. Charlie made a face at George behind her back and his brother retaliated with a two-fingered salute.  
  
“Cake!” Ginny insisted, pushing Charlie out of the way, and as she held a big knife, he let himself be jostled to the back wall.  
  
“Honestly, it's like none of you ever grew up,” Molly commented, swatting Bill's fingers away as he tried to swipe cream from the top of the cake. “You still argue like you're tiny, you still pinch food before you're allowed it... Billy, I'm warning you.”  
“Yeah, _Billy_ ,” George repeated, and stuck his tongue out as Bill looked at him angrily for the childhood nickname.  
“Boys, boys,” Arthur sighed. “Anyway. Happy birthday, Charlie.”  
“And here's to a good piss up, an atrocious hangover, and a fry up in the morning,” Harry called, lifting his glass of firewhiskey in Charlie's direction.  
  
The others agreed and all toasted to him. Charlie nodded, almost shyly, at their acknowledgement.  
  
There was one person that the room did not contain whom Charlie wished could have been there. Hermione stood by the back door, her youngest, Hugo, cuddled into her chest, but there was no Ron by her side. He was away on a mission for the Aurors and even though he had tried, he couldn't be there for their annual celebration of Charlie's birthday and the beginning of their festive season.  
  
“Hey...” Charlie slipped round the table as his family surged forward for cake. “Can I have a cuddle from...” he lowered his voice so Bill and Percy couldn't hear him. “My favourite nephew?”  
“Of course you can,” Hermione beamed, and she transferred the happy toddler into his arms.  
  
Charlie weighed the tiny body in his arms and bounced him slightly. He pressed a kiss to the side of his little temple and smelt his baby-soft hair.  
  
“Hey, mini-Ron.”   
  
The child looked exactly as he remembered Ron looking at the same age: sweet, with big blue eyes and a plump mouth, almost cherub-like; startlingly read hair and an abundance of freckles.  
  
“You get more handsome every time I see you, dude.”  
  
“Oh now look at that.” His mother's voice rose high above the babble of the rest of the family. “Isn't that lovely? Charlie, you look so good with a baby in your arms. Maybe this year will be the year you settle down and have one of your own, hmm?”  
“And when wizard science develops to let men carry babies to full term, he'll let you know,” George offered, through a mouthful of cake; Charlie thought his sentence deserved a medal for pure effort. Their mother looked less amused.  
“There's always adoption. Accidents happen every day and people don't want babies.”  
“Mum, leave it,” Bill groaned. “Every year. Haven't you got enough grandchildren?”  
“You can never have enough,” she said sternly, but smiled as she cut another slice of birthday cake.  
“I might just steal this one,” Charlie pointed out, as Hugo snuffled into the crook of his neck.  
“Please do.” Hermione laughed. “And then you can be the one reading to him endlessly.”  
“Thank God he got your brains, Hermione, Ron was even thicker at that age than he is now.”  
“George, I'm warning you-”  
“Joke,” George added hastily.  
  
Charlie kissed the top of Hugo's hair and passed him back to Hermione.  
  
“He's growing so much.”  
“He'll be as tall as Ron.”  
  
Charlie nodded, trying hard not to think about Ron's lengthy bones and his lanky form.  
  
“Yup, he will be,” he agreed, and moved off for cake.  
  
***  
  
Charlie's ears were still buzzing when he finally fell into his bed that evening. His brothers had frogmarched him to the pub, during which Charlie realised that he was definitely growing older after his head started to spin after only three tequila slammers.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a fart to try and relieve the tension in his body.  
  
“Oh, so that's the greeting round here these days, is it?”  
  
Charlie's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright. At the end of his bed stood Ron, who was wearing his Auror robes and was covered in dust; he looked dead on his feet.  
  
“Am I late?” Ron asked.  
“For what?” Charlie frowned.  
“Your birthday,” Ron said, kicking off his boots.  
  
Charlie watched as the man peeled off his robes and threw them on the floor. Ron scrubbed his face with his hands and moaned.  
  
“You've got ten minutes left,” Charlie said weakly, glancing at the clock.  
“Good, I like to be on time.”  
  
Ron slipped under the covers and immediately rolled close. Charlie hooked an arm around his waist as Ron lifted his lips for a kiss, which Charlie granted him. The strains of his wireless played over them both as the kiss melted into something deeper and more soulful to match the low jazz melody emanating from the speaker.  
  
“I missed you,” Charlie murmured, when they finally parted for air.  
“I wanted to be here,” Ron said sadly. “But I had to work and... only just got off duty and when I got to the pub you weren't there...”  
“Getting too old for all-night benders,” Charlie said with a grimace.  
“Been telling you that for years.” Ron yawned in his face. “Mm. You smell good.”  
“You smell disgusting,” Charlie replied. “Where have you been, the sewers?”  
“The funny thing is, you're joking... but you're not far off. Fancy a shower?”  
“No, I fancy rolling you over, parting your arse cheeks and burying my face in them.”  
“Oh.”  
  
Charlie imagined how red Ron's face would be blushing at that moment and grinned into the darkness of his bedroom. He waited as Ron cuddled further into him and, in a move which made Charlie's heart flutter unmanly, tucked his face into the crook of Charlie's neck in exactly the same way that Hugo had earlier in the evening.  
  
“Nearly died tonight,” Ron said quietly. “Killing curse missed me by about a millimetre.”  
  
Charlie froze, holding his breath.  
  
“Didn't,” Ron said.  
“Not allowed.” Charlie gripped him tightly. “Don't you dare.”  
  
Ron made a noise of assent, a sleepy noise from the depths of his throat.  
  
“Sleepy...” he breathed.  
  
Charlie kissed his cheek and gently pushed him onto his back. He pulled the duvet up to Ron's neck and tucked him in. For all the things they could have done -the dirty, debauched acts they could have celebrated his birthday with, he couldn't help but feel that they were doing the best they could. They rarely got to spend time alone together and Ron was all his as they lay there. His brother smelt of dust and his usual powdery whiff. Charlie traced his forefinger over the inked dragon over the redhead's left pectoral muscle, a feisty black shaded creature, which had been there for years. Although dragons were easy choices for tattoos and Charlie himself was covered in them, anybody who looked closely and knew them both would see the obvious connection between the ink in Ron's skin and Charlie; it was an exact mirror image of his Patronus.  
  
Charlie mouthed a kiss over the beast and Ron sighed contentedly in his sleep.  
  
“Happy birthday to me,” Charlie murmured against his musky skin, inhaling.  
  
Ron moaned his assent, and Charlie lay his head down on his brother's chest, listening to his heartbeat.  
  
 _-fin_ -


End file.
